


The Chocolate Thief

by telperion_15



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's stolen Rodney's chocolate, and he's not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chocolate Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [admiralandrea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralandrea/gifts).



“Hi Rodney, how are you this eve…” John breezed into Rodney’s quarters and then came to an abrupt halt when he realised that Rodney was subjecting him to a glare that would probably have caused lesser beings to spontaneously combust.

He raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Something the matter?”

“I know it was you,” Rodney responded accusingly – and somewhat obscurely.

“Know what was me?” John’s eyebrow stayed raised.

“You know perfectly well what. Zelenka saw you!” But when John’s expression remained baffled, Rodney sighed in annoyance and elaborated. “My chocolate bar. It was my last one, and you _stole_ it from my lab. Don’t try to deny it!”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, _that_.”

John honestly didn’t know what to say. Yes, he had taken the chocolate bar, but he’d also planned to replace it before Rodney had noticed it was gone. Looked like that idea was well and truly scuppered.

“I’m sorry, Rodney.” John tried his little-boy smile, the one that never failed to make Rodney smile back, even if most of the time it was accompanied by an eye-roll. “How can I make it up to you?”

But on this occasion it appeared that Rodney was unmoved. “You know how,” he replied flatly.

John hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. He _did_ know how. “Fine.”

“I should damn well think it’s fine,” Rodney muttered.

The words were a little muffled as John pulled his t-shirt over his head. He draped it over the back of a chair, and then added his BDUs, socks, and shorts. His boots he placed in a neat pair next to the chair leg.

Then, naked, he climbed on to Rodney’s bed, arranging himself on his hands and knees so he was facing the wall.

There was a pause, in which the only sound was Rodney’s footsteps as he walked over to the bed, followed by a brief period of silence, during which John had to exercise all the willpower he possessed in order not to look over his shoulder to see what Rodney was doing.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that stealing is wrong?” was the only warning John got before the flat of Rodney’s hand hit John’s ass, none too gently.

John exhaled sharply, but other than that didn’t react.

“People who steal need to punished,” Rodney continued, and smacked John’s ass again.

John could feel his skin starting to sting – and, he imagined, turn pink – where Rodney had hit him, but he didn’t say anything. And Rodney, it seemed, wasn’t willing to allow him any respite, peppering John’s buttocks and the backs of his thighs with blows, always varying the area and strength of them so John wouldn’t know where the next one would fall, or how much it would hurt.

John’s cock had started to harden from the moment he’d removed his clothes, and it was now jutting out, full and heavy, from his body, twitching and jerking every time Rodney spanked him. John didn’t try and touch it, though. Touching wasn’t allowed.

Instead he closed his eyes, let his head dangle, and tried to absorb the impact and feeling of Rodney’s hand hitting his ass without letting it make him come.

That wasn’t allowed either.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Rodney asked, after an indeterminable amount of time that to John had felt like several hours.

John nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“And the lesson is…?” Rodney pressed.

“Not to steal,” John ground out.

“Not to steal,” Rodney agreed.

It took John a moment to realise that the spanking had stopped, and he was about to lift his head and risk everything by speaking again when two slick fingers were suddenly pushed into him, making him gasp at the new sensation. They prepared him just enough so that, when Rodney’s cock shoved roughly into him moments later, John was able to bite his lip and _not_ cry out at the stretch and burn.

He’d lost track of what was going on. He had no idea when Rodney had removed his clothes, or where he’d grabbed the lube from. All knew was the Rodney’s cock was splitting him apart, fucking him open in a punishment almost more effective than the spanking had been.

“Fuck, yes, fuck, John…” Rodney chanted over and over as he pounded into John’s pliant body.

John’s cock hadn’t softened in the slightest, but he still couldn’t touch it. He couldn’t bring himself off. He had to wait, and it was _torture_.

Finally he felt the familiar stuttering in Rodney’s rhythm that he knew meant Rodney was about to come, and then Rodney groaned as he emptied himself inside John.

Dazed with need and restraint, John barely flinched when Rodney pulled out of him, and he allowed himself to be twisted round and pushed down to the mattress. He felt Rodney’s hand on his cock, three rough jerks all that was necessary before he was arching his back and coming hard enough to make the world turn grey around the edges.

*~*~*~*~*

Sometime later, when Rodney had cleaned them both up, and curled up next to John as well as he could on the small bed, John stirred and turned his head to look at the other man.

“It doesn’t have to be a game, you know,” he murmured. “We don’t have to construct and act out elaborate scenarios so we can do this. We don’t need them.” He hesitated slightly, and then continued. “ _I_ don’t need them. I’m not ashamed of wanting this, Rodney.”

Rodney shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable. “I know we don’t need them,” he said defensively. “But I like them.” Then he looked sideways at John and grinned slyly. “Besides, I enjoy ‘punishing’ you. And I can’t get into it if I’ve got nothing to actually punish you for.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Anyway,” Rodney said, shrugging a little, “I need something to distract me while the minions are attempting to bore me to death in the weekly meetings. ‘Constructing elaborate scenarios’, as you put it, gives me something to think about.”

John snorted, wriggled a bit to try and find a better position on the bed, and then immediately wished he hadn’t, as a portion of his anatomy reminded him that it had seen some rather vigorous treatment earlier in the evening. “Okay, Rodney, fine, we’ll do it your way. After all, do you hear me complaining?”

“Not lately,” Rodney replied, smirking at him. Then his eyes narrowed. “Where’s my chocolate, by the way? It’d better be safe.”

“Don’t worry, Rodney, it’s stashed in the desk in my office. “You’ll get it back tomorrow.” John rolled his eyes again.

“Good. Because our playacting doesn’t need to be _that_ authentic. And you don’t want to find out how I _really_ punish people who steal my chocolate.”

“Go to sleep, Rodney,” John muttered. Then he grinned. “I need that brain fully rested so it can think up some new and interesting scenarios in tomorrow’s meeting.”


End file.
